


Helm's Deep

by Hathanta



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Helm's Deep, M/M, Two Towers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hathanta/pseuds/Hathanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Eowyn gets the wrong idea, Gimli asks Legolas about his feelings for Aragorn and encourages to him to tell the man what he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helm's Deep

Aragorn was in council with Theoden, and Legolas had climbed onto the battlements to be alone with his thoughts. As he was looking out at the valley of Helm’s Deep he heard the familiar stomping and clanking of Gimli and turned to greet the dwarf with a wan smile.  
“You don’t make yerself easy to find, laddie!”  
“I had not thought anyone was looking for me.”  
The dwarf grunted and put his back to the wall, looking over the fort, as he wasn’t tall enough to see between the merlons. Legolas had the odd feeling that he was searching for the right words to say something.  
Gimli cleared his throat and Legolas tilted his head toward him, “I was, ah, talking with Lady Eowyn just now, that is, she asked to speak to with me about something and, what I mean to say is – she appears to be under the impression that you have given your heart to Aragorn.”  
Legolas simply stared at Gimli for a moment, before a tight smile worked it’s way onto his mouth, “Why – why would she think that?”  
“She told me that she’d seen you giving Aragorn that pendant he wears, when he appeared back after the warg attack, and that he had told her it was first given to him by the elf who was in love with him.”  
The elf chuckled dryly, “You told her it was Arwen, of course?”  
“Aye. But it did make me wonder – about... your feelings toward Aragorn.”  
“There is nothing going on between Aragorn and me.” Legolas raised his eyes once more to the night.  
“I know that, laddie, but what of _your_ feelings toward the man?”  
“Must we speak of this, Gimli?”  
“Yes. Out with it.”  
The elf’s mouth twitched at his friend’s stubbornness, but the smile grew wistful on his face as he explored the sky with his eyes, seeing nothing. “I think,” he started after a moment, “he must be the bravest... noblest man I’ve ever met – and, and I would follow him to the ends of the earth.”  
“So... the man has won the hearts of two elves!”  
“He is destined for Arwen. I would be happy merely to be of service to him, fight alongside him and help him regain his crown.”  
The dwarf looked up at him, shaking his head, “No. You wouldn’t just be happy with that.”  
Legolas dropped his head with a sardonic chuckle, “No, you are right – I wish to take him away, journey north with him, show him Mirkwood, explore the world-“ he bit off the word and sighed. “Gimli, it is a terrible thought, but I wish this conflict would last longer so that I may know more of him, before I lose him to Gondor and Kingship... and marriage.”  
“You should tell him.”  
“I- he would never-“  
“No, but I think he has a right to know. I don’t believe it would mar our fellowship and-“  
“No good would come of it.”  
“Think on it, laddie.” The elf was silent. “Think on it.”

In the following days Legolas didn’t have much time to think on it, or even see Aragorn alone, as every hour was spent making ready for the approaching battle. Rohan’s army was a poor sight to behold. The men were ill equipped and ill trained and, even worse, nervous. The panicky, frightened atmosphere was even getting to the usually calm elf and his mood came to a head as he, Aragorn and Gimli watched men collect mismatched items from the weaponry.  
“Farmers, farriers, stable boys,” Aragorn looked around him and shook his head, “these are no soldiers.”  
“Most have seen too many winters!” Gimli muttered conspiratorially.  
“Or too few,” Legolas agreed raising his voice, “Look at them, they’re frightened. I can see it in their eyes.”  
There was a stilling in the crowd as the Rohan men stopped to glare at him. Clenching his jaw he turned his back on them, and then twisted around, speaking in elvish to Aragorn, “And they are three hundred... against _ten thousand?_ ”  
Aragorn gave him a weary shrug, also replying in his tongue, “They have more hope defending themselves here than at Edoras.”  
“Aragorn, they cannot win this fight,” he felt frustration writhe up inside of him, frustration at the futility of the fight, at the uselessness of the men, at the snaking path of destiny, “They are all going to die!”  
“Then I shall die as one of them!” he spoke in the human tongue as he crossed the short space to confront the silent elf. Legolas met his pale gaze, trying to convey to him that it was Aragorn’s own death that worried him, trying to bore the truth into his mind with his eyes alone. Aragorn opened his mouth as though to speak and then strode away from the elf without a word. Legolas immediately started after him, wishing desperately to make amends, but Gimli set a hand to his leg saying, “Let ‘im go, lad. Let ‘im be.”

It was later that Legolas finally worked up the courage to seek out Aragorn, and still later that he found the man dressing for battle in a deserted chamber. He watched as Aragorn slipped on his chainmail, shrugged on his jerkin, deftly tightening the laces, and buckled on his belts, all with the same, quiet, meditative expression. Even in this mundane task he radiated an aura of calm strength that soothed Legolas, as he knew it would all the Rohan people. Legolas realised that Aragorn was truly selfless, giving himself up for the men and never wavering in his resolve that they would win the day – for what would happen if he did let himself despair? The would-be-warriors would lose any hope that they ever harboured and the day would surely be lost. While men like Aragorn stood, they formed a bastion of courage for the weaker and unsure to rally around, and even Legolas gained hope from it. The elf had to turn his face away then, as he found what he had known all along – that he could never take this man away from the people who needed him the most, and he had no right to even entice him into the idea.  
He stepped softly into the room and was there, holding Aragorn’s sword as he turned to reach for it. The man took the blade with a nod.  
“We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray,” the elf paused, wanting to say so much more than just, “Forgive me. I was wrong to despair.”  
Aragorn smiled slightly and reached out to grasp Legolas’ shoulder, saying in elvish, “There is nothing to forgive Legolas.”  
A replying smile instantly spread over the elf’s face and he returned the gesture, grasping Aragorn’s shoulder, wishing he could do more, wishing he could say everything, but knowing he could not.


End file.
